Bruce the Father
by Andalusia25
Summary: One-shots about Bruce and Richard
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Summary: One-shots about Bruce and Richard.**

Saturday Morning Routine

It was 0600 in Gotham on a cold Saturday morning. The Batmobile had just pulled into the Batcave after a long night of chasing Joker around the city. What should have taken less than two hours had taken over ten. Joker had been surprisingly lucid and difficult to contain as he tried to kill half the city with his new toy.

Batman was bruised, cut and bleeding, not to mention in a foul mood. The suit had been modified to help protect him better, but even Lucius in all his wisdom couldn't make kelvar criminal-proof. That didn't matter now; it was all over for the moment. Arkham had the Clown Prince of Crime back in his cell and daylight had singled his relief. The Gotham PD could handle things during the day. With great effort, the Dark Knight hauled himself out of the driver's seat.

Pulling off what was left of his favorite batsuit as he made his way towards the showers, Bruce groaned. "Rough night, sir?" Alfred appeared as usual from no where. Nodding because it would take too much energy to speak, Bruce swapped the black mass in his hands for the clean towels his butler was offering. He needed a shower, he could smell himself. He needed a better attitude, it was Saturday and he had plans.

With the water on as hot as it would go, Bruce scrubbed himself clean. The water rejuvenated him. As the grime circled the drain, he felt the weight of the night melt from his weary muscles. His head was pounding, but breakfast would fix that. In precisely fourteen minutes, he emerged from the bathroom, clean and dressed as Bruce Wayne ready for a Saturday morning at Wayne Manor.

By the time he stepped into the kitchen, Alfred had already plated two stacks of pancakes, one with only syrup and another in the shape of Mickey Mouse's head with berries, whip cream and syrup. As Bruce took his first sip of coffee, eight year-old Richard came bouncing in the room with his Buzz Lightyear pajamas on. He grinned as he politely took his place at the table and dug into his breakfast with gusto. They ate in companionable silence, Richard did have manners after all and knew that speaking this early in the morning would make his Dad's headache even worse. Bruce read the paper and slowly ate his pancakes. With each bite his pounding head dulled and with wide smiles from Richard they evaporated like fog in the sun. Alfred sat down with his own plate reading the sections as Bruce finished. When Richard's plate was empty and in the sink, he took the comic page and read through his favorite ones.

Richard managed to still until Bruce closed the paper, signaling he was finished with breakfast. It seemed to the youngster that every week he stretched the time he had to wait further. With a nod from Bruce and with speed to rival Flash, Richard raced into the den. By the time his adopted father joined him the television and surround sound were on and Bugs Bunny was torturing Daffy Duck. Bruce took his seat and within seconds, Richard was climbing into his lap and Bruce was wrapping his arms around the boy.

That was their Saturday morning routine. Richard would watch cartoons for most of the morning while Bruce held him close and napped. They both got what they wanted. Richard got cartoons and comfort while Bruce got to sleep knowing Richard was safe and happy.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed!**

**Let me know what you think and if I should continue **


	2. Importance

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**Importance**

The mirrored eyes of his Ray Ban's blocked the harsh autumn sun from the billionaire's eyes and hid his gaze from the surrounding flock of soccer moms leaving him free scan the area in rotation and keep up with the game. He watched his son pass the ball to his teammate, smiling with confidence. Number eight advanced down the field before for kicking the ball back to Richard who immediately kicked it into the net while the goalie was still protecting the opposite side. The smallest one of the group was wrapped up in his excited teammate's congratulatory hugs. Currently, the Gotham Blue Jays were winning five to one.

The playboy's dark gaze never left the bright blue number four jersey. Women around him would try to engage him in conversation, but Bruce would ignore them standing to clap with Richard had done even the smallest of things proving they were being ignored. They would eventually leave the proud papa alone to enjoy the game. While he appeared to be totally submersed in the game, Bruce kept his eyes peeled for trouble ready to sprint towards the boy and be gone in a blink of an eye. His Batman senses did not dull when the sun rose.

Richard was very active in sports. During the fall he played soccer, during the winter he played basketball, during the spring he played baseball and during the summer he was on the swim team. Once, the two had discussed gymnastics but Richard had preferred to be in the gym alone without another instructor. He promised Bruce that his father, John, had taught him everything he would ever need to know from the trapeze to the horse. The older orphan had not pushed the boy further only encouraged him to take up other team sports. He worried the boy was not spending enough time with kids his own age.

Even with his grueling schedule, Bruce was at every game and every practice. Nothing was more important than filling his spot in the stands to silently cheer on Richard. He had not wanted the boy to feel the heartbreak of looking up at the empty spot on the stands knowing that is where his parents would have been.

At last, the game was over. "Gotham Blue Jays have defeated the Metropolis Hawks ten to two!" The announcer declared.

Cheerfully, Bruce made his way towards the thrilled striker weaving through the small groups of families. "Nice job, Richard." Bruce's voice sparkled with pride.

Stuffing his knee pads and cleats into his bag, the champion was vibrating with excitement. "Did you see me shake off that teenager and make that last point? That was so cool! He was at least your size! They thought they could come up in here and win on the road. Well, we taught them. We are undefeated. State will be next and we are going to get such cool trophies!" They began walking back to the car as he retold the scene Bruce had just witnessed with a point of view only Richard could see. It didn't seem that the boy was even taking a breath.

Climbing into the expensive foreign made vehicle, Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Winning is not everything, Richard. There are many things in life that are much more important." He chided the youngster.

Adjusting himself in the seat, Richard stuck his tongue out at Bruce. "Winning isn't everything, but it sure is better than loosing!" He laughed as they pulled from their parking spot.

After games they went to the best ice cream parlor in the city. It was a locally owned shop that Bruce had visited with his parents many years ago. It was one of his fondest memories. Bruce always got a double chocolate cone and Richard got the special because 'nothing was ever bad.' Taking their ice cream, the two sat at the end of the counter. Richard did not stop talking until his first bite, although Bruce had trouble keeping the names straight so he simply listened, and then it was blessed silence.

As they were eating a small boy and what appeared to be his older brother came into the shop. They were both in clean but well worn clothes. Bruce had noticed them first; both seemed a little pale and tired, nothing like his hyper child. The friendly cashier, smiled at them. "We would like two waters." The oldest one ordered before helping the youngest up on the stool beside Richard.

Richard turned to the boys. Even the eight-year-old could see they were not from the wealthiest of homes. "You should really try the special." He grinned in greeting.

The older one shook his head before the youngest answered. "We don't have enough money for that." He was at the right age where he only told the truth and told it to whoever would listen. His two front teeth were missing making his speech slightly breezy.

Richard seemed to think this over for a second. "Ok then. Hey Martha, if I pay you will you get them both a special?" He hadn't bothered to ask Bruce, it was his money he could do what he wanted to with it. Not that Bruce would have argued.

The older lady smiled at the trio. "Of course, Richard."

Nodding at the other boys, Richard was quick to add more specifications. "Make them with extra whip cream and extra cherries, its better that way." The youngest boy nodded happily.

The older one spoke up, his pride showing through. "No, you don't have to do that." The youngest one was already watching with hungry eyes as Martha began making the ice cream concoction.

Shrugging, Richard just grinned wider. "It's ok, I got my allowance today so I've got the money." With the confidence that belayed any further protest, Richard dug out the money from his back pocket and placed it on the counter. "Everybody needs some ice cream on a day like today." He smiled brightly.

In quick succession, Martha had placed two heaping bowls of ice cream infront of the pair. The youngest giggled in delight as he took his spoon and dug in. The boys made small talk over their ice cream; mainly it was Richard telling them about his soccer game and his captive audience listening with wide eyes.

Bruce had watched the exchange in awe. He was philanthropist and gave money to the needy every day, but never in such a direct way. It was through balls and donation drives and anonymous gifts. He might have slipped Martha some money unseen so that the boys could have had anything on the menu they wanted, but he would never have spoken to the children. Richard had done the exact opposite, brightening up their faces with wide smiles. Bruce was merely a bank account, he didn't have the human touch or the personality to be caring, but Richard did. He would gladly repay the child his money for his good deed.

Leaning close, Martha whispered their tale to Bruce. "They come in every afternoon, they like to look at the ice cream and sit where it is cool. The oldest one's name is Tommy and the youngest one's name is Davey. They live with their grandmother and she doesn't have enough money for ice cream but once a week. They split a plain vanilla cone. I double their order for free, but I can't give out too much, you know. I watch after them and keep them safe until it's time for them to go back home." Her eyes softened as she watched Richard interacted with the children from such a different world.

Thinking for several moments, Bruce finished his cone. "You give them two vanilla ice creams every day when they come in." He pulled out a large bill from his pocket. "Tell me when my tab's getting too low." He winked at the woman who had served him ice cream every week of his life (except for his teenage years and before Richard came to live with him).

Tucking away the money, Martha spared a glance at the boys before looking back at the grown man. "I always knew you had a heart of gold." Patting his arm, she left to tend to the other customers.

Clearing his throat, Bruce interrupted the boys. "Richard, it's time we got back to Alfred." They had taken much longer in the shop than normal and the white-haired butler would be worried – Bruce was Batman after all.

Jumping up, Richard smiled at the boys. "It was nice to meet you." He shook both their hands.

Tommy straightened and looked the youngest Wayne in the eye. "It was nice of you to buy us ice cream." He was sincerely touched by the stranger's affection.

Richard's smile grew even larger. "I hope you liked it. Maybe we'll see each other again. Bye Davey! Bye Tommy!" He waved as he followed his dad out the door. The boys were waving back just as eagerly.

After securing the safety belts, Bruce pulled back into the traffic. "That was really nice of you to do that." He looked over at his passenger.

Richard was playing his hand-held game. "Had to, wouldn't have been polite to eat all that infront of them with them wanting some. If you hadn't've adopted me, I would have wanted someone to do buy ice cream for me if I couldn't buy it." With his simple child logic, Richard realized that it was only luck he had been adopted by a billionaire.

Touched beyond measure, Bruce reached over and ruffled the raven locks. He could not imagine his life without Richard. Nothing had mattered before and nothing would matter beyond this child. "Love you, kiddo." He turned his surprisingly misty eyes back to the road.

"Love you too." Richard distractedly answered. His mind was already back on his game, after all what he had done was simply what needed to be done. Winning the game had been very impressive but showing compassion and reaching across socio-economic boundaries made the Dark Knight's heart swell with pride.

**A/N: Thanks for reading!**

**I really don't like Richard being called Dick, never have... **

**Like it? Hate it?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**Secrets**

Bruce was not sure if he had heard the soft noise or not. The manor tended to echo every tiny noise and carry it through the halls, so it wasn't until the second time he heard it he was sure it was real. It had been a tiny sob or a frustrated groan of either a young male or a female. The detective's mind raced over the possibilities. It could have been mistaken for a door squeaking as it shut somewhere or a floor board groaning under a massive collectable's weight in some other house, but not this one. This house made no noise, Bruce spent quite a bit of money to make sure.

Jumping up from his chair so fast it flew back into the wall, the Dark Knight rushed out of the room towards where he believed the noise originated. It was 1530 which meant the newest Wayne heir was home from school. Logically the noise could only be coming from him, Alfred would not make such noises, and he obviously was in need of someone to talk to. Tearing down the halls, Bruce tried to follow the muffle towards his son. It appeared to be coming from the library.

Quietly entering the room, Bruce could see Richard facing the window. His knuckles were white as they clutched his uniform pants at his sides. His body was as tense as a bow string. Weighing his options, Bruce stepped forward slowly. "Hello, Richard." He ignored the fist sized crack in the wall level the boy's right shoulder.

Startled, the youngster spun around to face the Caped Crusader. "Hello, Bruce." His voice was ice cold. The Bat was admittedly impressed.

Sitting down with his back to the window a few steps away from his son, Bruce thought small talk would work best to begin finding out what was wrong. "How was school?" Gotham Academy was the best magnet school in the state. Richard was a shining star amongst the most talented students in the nation. He always seemed so happy when he talked about his classes, friends and teachers.

Narrowing his eyes, Richard snarled. "It sucked. I can't stand those preps. They don't understand anything about the real world. All they care about is how big a party they can throw or how much money they spend on clothes." He folded his arms over his chest.

Never before had he spoke with such negativity about his school. From what Bruce had gathered Richard loved going to Gotham Academy. He liked the challenge. "That is a new attitude. Did someone do something to you?" Bruce scooted an inch closer.

Sighing, Richard ran a hand through his dark hair. "Everyone was having a big discussion about the party for the Academy and Gotham High kids that got broke up last Friday night." Bruce had been the one to break up the party. There had been drugs and alcohol in mass quantities and other numerous illegal activities. "They said that Batman was a maniac as bad as the Joker. Someone called him a freak and everybody agreed." The young man was very upset.

Relieved that the smaller boy had not been victimized, Bruce chuckled. "Richard, it's ok. I think Batman can handle his own battles." He stood preparing to leave.

Rushing towards his father, Richard got in his face, or would have had he been taller. "But they shouldn't talk about Batman like that! He's a hero!" His voice slightly cracked with all the emotion.

Startled, Bruce looked deep into the blue eyes before him. "Why are you so upset over what the kids said about Batman?" He narrowed his eyes, slipping into his night-time persona interrogating the could-be newest threat to his secret identity.

Exasperated, Richard face-palmed and gritted out a reply. "Because you are Batman! And you're my… my Bruce! I don't want them to talk about you like that!" He rolled his eyes.

Cold panic gripped Bruce's heart as his brain tried to logically assess the situation. "What do you mean that I'm Batman?" Deny, deny, deny. That was his policy.

"Don't play dumb, Bruce. I know that you _are_ Batman." Richard deadpanned. "I know that you are not a maniac or a freak or any of those other things they said. And I wanted to punch those idiots for even saying that!" He tugged at the muscular arm under his tiny hand.

Taking a deep breath trying to remain as calm as possible. "Richard that is not something you can ever reveal _anyone_. Others might find out – bad guys. It would put you and Alfred in great danger. It's called a secret identity because is supposed to stay a secret." His dark eyes beseeched the youngster to understand the implications of his knowledge.

Smiling, with his blue eyes twinkling, Richard nodded. "I know that. I won't tell anyone."

Bruce relaxed slightly. It was time to change the subject. He didn't want to discuss this with Richard now; it would lead to too many other questions that Bruce was not sure he could answer. "Why don't we go have some hot cocoa?" He smiled his infamous Wayne smile that always resulted in him getting exactly what he wanted. Not even ten-year-olds could resist his charm.

Shrugging, Richard complied. "Ok." He followed on the hero's heels towards the kitchen. "Hey Bruce, can I see the Bat suit up close?" His only reply was a groan.

**A/N: Thanks for reading!**

**I think this one is more Robin-ish than the other ones. **


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